Sherlocked in Avengers Tower
by KiwitheCoconut
Summary: John and Sherlock are self-employed to investigate the abnormal radiation readings at an abandoned Sokovian prison, where an organization use to operate under the title of HYDRA. The Avengers don't want anyone trodding on volatile territory that has a history of corruption and world domination. Paths cross, fate falls, but mostly, everyone's pissed at a certain consulting detective
1. Get the Ball Rolling

"Mörderischen bastarde!" John shouted as he threw a pen across the street and onto the concrete ground. "Mycroft's has got to have sent the wrong coordinates, because radiation, of _450 REM_ , would _never_ originate from an abandoned Sokovian prison where mountain goats walk the premises!" John raged, "Its simple logic! Even I understand it Sherlock, me!"

"John, be quiet, you're wig's falling off," Sherlock hushed as he readjusted the brown tendrils that currently covered John Watson's head, "If we're going to get through this village undetected, you start acting like the irritable, indignant old woman that you truly are, and don't scream German profanities across the street, will you?" Sherlock smirked, turned on his heel, and started pushing his way through the stream of villagers, eyeing the looming prison that stood far away atop the east European mountains.

"Sherlock, wait," John sputtered before racing after the consulting detective.

"Sir, this is a simple surveillance mission. Do we really need to send three of the avengers?" Agent Hill questioned Nick Fury. "Just tell Level 4 to send out a few field agents, collect some readings, bug the place, and make sure no evil robot clans are trying to procreate."

"Hill, this is the place where Loki's scepter was held captive. The radiation levels have been absolutely nuts since day one, and I am not risking anything just to have the place blow up and have a new 'age of whatever' again." Fury snapped.

"Your command, sir." Replied Maria Hill, before turning and walking down the hallway of the Helicarrier. She stopped at the control panel and pressed the dial to speak into the intercom, "May Agent Barton, Rogers, and Stark report to the launching pad, I repeat, Agent Barton, Rogers, and Stark, report to the launching pad. Over." She hesitated before keying the dial again. "Now."

Thuds of quickened footsteps began nearing Agent Hill, as a sweat-covered Steve Rogers emerged from the hallway across from her, boxing tape hanging from his hands. Clint Barton soon followed with a fresh bruise emerging on his left shoulder and a practice arrow still stuck onto the heel of his boot. After an exchange of curt greetings and nods, the three waited. Several long minutes later the sliding door hissed opened to reveal Tony Stark doused in oil stains with a strong scent of gasoline coming from his body. Multiple kid-sized iron man Band-Aids covered scrapes above the brow bone of his very annoyed face.

"So what do you need this time madam president?" snapped Tony, clearly irritated he was being pulled away from his computers. "Bruce's radiation gizmo hasn't picked up anything in ages and the world still hasn't called for my knight of shining armor."

"It's not my call, Stark, but we need you three to go back to the Sokovian prison where we found the Maximoffs. Fury wants to do an onceover of the place, make sure it's still dormant and secure. He's sending you three in place of field agents because he believes there may have been another party that had access to Loki's scepter before it was removed from the premises. We're, well, he's not risking anything."

"But we're the avengers! We're supposed to be fighting, not sightseeing. Now if you excuse me F.R.I.D.A.Y. and I have almost finished scanning the Mark 49 for potential launch infrequent-

"We'll do it, Agent Hill." Steve spoke over Tony's ramblings and grabbed the genius on shoulder before he could leave. "When do we start?"

"When you get changed," Hill said, referring to the mixture of sweat, blood, and oil that was dispersed among the three of them. "This one's incognito. Except Stark. You get the suit."

Tony silently pumped his fist in the background.

"Barton and Rogers," Hill gestured to the dry cleaning room located across the hallway. "Civilians clothes. Look normal." Hill glanced at her watch where a message from Fury was displayed. _Hurry their motherfucking asses up_. Hill internally rolled her eyes and finished, "Other than that, Stark will be responsible for all the wiretaps, bring your weapons, and be on the launching pad in five."

"Ay, ay, captain," Tony mock saluted before running off in the opposite direction. "FRIDAY, release the suit in compartment seven? Yes, the one with the cheekbones…" He mumbled into thin air.

Clint gave a look to Steve. "First one to the closet gets to wear the leather jacket!" Clint yelled before taking off down the hall.

"It doesn't even fit me!" Steve complained at Clint's back before sprinting after the archer.

"You sure this is it?" John asked as they stared up at the giant stone building way above them."

"How many other high-security maxi abandoned prisons do you see around here? Don't worry, you'll only need one hand to count them." Sherlock responded.

"Okay Sherlock, I get it. But how the hell are we going to get up there?" John indicated.

"Take off your clothes."

"Okay but then- wait, what?"

"I mean your disguise, John. Take it off." Sherlock snapped as he shrugged off the oversized winter coat and swapped the woolen scarf for his burgundy one. John nodded shortly and carefully removed the bobby pins from his wig before yanking it off and throwing the mess into the growing pile of clothes at the base of the mountain. Using the sleeve of his blouse John furiously rubbed off the lipstick on his mouth.

"Shame, I thought it was big improvement, now your mouth just seems too, small," Sherlock said nonchalantly before smirking like the giant asshole everyone knew he was.

"Sherlock- I swear to god, you're being the woman next time," John grumbled.

"Come along then, we can't wait for the entire mountain to erode. Judging by its current state, I'd say in 78,568,000 years."

"God Sherlock, what case forced you to learn how to figure out the expiration dates of mountains?

"Nothing. I searched it up before we left, now if you hurry up, we might make it to the prison before the first million years pass." Sherlock turned and began clambering up the misshapen boulders towards a carved out opening on the bottom half of the mountain.

"Why would you even- okay, whatever. Just, wait up will you?" John shouted at the back of Sherlock as he began scrambling after the climbing detective.

John and Sherlock walked cautiously through the cavernous hallways of the empty prison, silently analyzing the state of the complex. Sherlock's flashlight shined across the blast marks and broken down machinery that was labelled with a skull insignia with snake heads coming out of it. As they passed room upon room, hallway upon hallway, John realized something.

"Sherlock," John hesitated.

"Yes John?" Sherlock replied.

"How come there's no, carnage?" John asked, "The place's obviously been violently raided, so why is it so pristine other than the occasional hole in the wall? Like, no incinerated bodies, or misplaced limbs, or even just a bloodied up crow bar."

"That's why we're here. After the Americans eradicated HYDRA from the premises, there was a brief flash of immense radioactivity, lasted less than a second." Sherlock explained, "As much as Mycroft and I wanted to hope that it was just a friendly cleanup crew, our combined deduction skills told us, eh, no."

The pair of them continued to sweep through the former HYDRA base until they reached an opening and then,

"Whoa."

Before them stood a room. Or what was a room. Three out of four walls were complete rubble, the lightly falling snow dusting the pieces of stone. However, in the center of the 'room' stood a destroyed structure that looked like a scorched tree of metal. Black ooze dripped from the twisted mantel of the wreck, and the bent lengths of steel pointed outward as if an explosion happened from within.

"John, quick, get the REM device out. Take a reading," Sherlock ordered before taking out his rectangular magnifying glass and sticking it right in front of the disintegrated metal. "Melted tar, but it's still in a liquid form even after at least weeks. Obviously some sort of explosion from the inside, but it's of supernatural capabilities. John, what are the readings? The steel workings were encasing a radioactive material, but no legal substance has the ability to just smear titanium. The British government have no files concerning anything above a place of diplomacy at this location, so everything and anything here is officially the black market. What are the readings John? This metal frame held something very valuable, it's custom made. Look at those latches, their nonexistent. So whatever was here was never intentionally removed, only tested from within. So what is incredibly valuable, powerful, portable, and of unknown, supernatural capabilities- oh. Oh. Oh ho, I was not expecting- oh, this is great, John, what are those readings John, I think we've got something exciting! John, you've been awfully quiet, John- what- John, where are you?" Sherlock called out to the now empty space.

"Here, Sherlock," John yelled from a room fifty feet away from where Sherlock stood. "Sherlock, the device is picking up some other readings, there was a blink of something not-dead past there," John pointed at the solid wall in front of them. "And then it's just kind of stayed there, but now it's rapidly increasing." John reported.

"That's not right," Sherlock muttered as he walked up right next to John, "This place has been restricted from all public access, and there's no reason in the world why anyone would want to come here unless-

*CRASH*

"Alright ladies if you want to just drop down and accept defeat right now that'd be great, Pepper just made dinner and I don't want it to get cold."


	2. Predicaments at the Peak

A cavalry of a fully suited and engaged iron man, a super soldier in Adidas, and an archer wearing a leather jacket were standing ready to strike. The giant hole behind them still smoked from the impact of one of Iron Man's explosive projectiles. The super soldier stepped forward.

"What are you are doing here on restricted premises." Steve ordered.

"We're here under an ordinance by the British Government," John snapped, while trying to pull out a page of legal documents from his jacket.

"John," Sherlock violently whispered as he elbowed John in the ribs, "Those are fake, Mycroft didn't tell the government we'd be here."

"Wait what-

"SHEILD has not authorized any other outside organization to enter the premises," Steve stated.

"And we found these at the bottom of the mountain," Clint held up a pile of discarded clothes. They were the remnants of John and Sherlock's disguises that they had shedded before coming to the abandoned prison.

"Well, sorry to inform you, but other human beings in the world actually care about what happens to a location of radioactive extremities and actually carry the duty of checking on it, something that you Americans have very little experience in, if I do say so myself." Sherlock quipped. "Now if you excuse me I saw a rather remarkable tree just outside and I think I might go take another look at it, hm?" Sherlock said slowly backing away. Then with a start, burst into a full sprint, dragging John Watson behind him.

"Sherlock," huffed John as they sprinted down the winding corridors, "Do you realize who those people are?!"

"They're Americans, so I don't care."

"Sherlock!" reprimanded the former before jumping over an overturned rock. "Let's do a roll call shall we?" John breathed out between paces, "One of them, *huff* has superpowers. The other one, *huff* is an ingenious killing machine, and the other one, *huff* is a man, with unnatural, and unmatchable skills."

"Well John," Sherlock snapped back as he dodged a misplaced boulder, "By your definition, technically, I'm all three of them combined," Sherlock smirked as they both continued to sprint down the winding halls of the prison.

"Now's not the time for ego reinforcement, Sherlock! We've got the star-spangled golden boys at our backs and we don't have a bloody plan!" John huffed as they turned another corner.

"Do what I do, hold on tight, and pretend it's a plan!" Sherlock shouted before suddenly turning sharply and jumped out of a blast hole in the wall and onto the rocky slope of the mountain.

"What the hell- oh whatever," John grimaced and followed his friend out the wall and into the cold air.

They quickly scrambled their way across several small boulders, jumping several outrageous distances in attempt to increase their distance from the pursuing Avengers. "We can't outrun them, Sherlock, it's mad that you're even trying." John spat.

"Clever observation, Watson, I'm truly proud of you," Sherlock said. A smug smile arose his face as he suddenly stopped in front of a towering boulder. "But, the comment is really unnecessary by now." Sherlock grasped both sides of the boulder, and shifted the surprisingly light hunk of sediment to the right, revealing a cavernous hole behind it. "Quick, inside." The two of them darted into the dark space as Sherlock heaved the rock back into its place, sealing them off from the outside.

The pocket of mountain that they now resided in was about the size of a toilet cubicle. John slid down onto the floor, breathing heavily in exhaustion. Sherlock took out his flashlight and shone it up at the ceiling of the rocky hole, providing light for both of them.

"So," John breathed, "What the hell was that about?"

"Nothing." Replied Sherlock.

"Nothing?! Sherlock, those were the _Avengers_ , like, the super shooting, alien blasting, _Avengers_."

"They could have been imitators."

"They were _NOT_! Those were not, bloody, imitators! The Iron robot was going to blow you into several hundreds of wispy, Sherlock pieces!" John violently whispered. "Although I wouldn't be complaining if he did."

Sherlock gave him a condescending glare before slumping next to John.

"Take this," Sherlock muttered, handing John a small handgun from his coat.

"Wait, why?"

"You weren't planning to escape the 'Iron Robot' with your wit and fists were you?" Sherlock mocked.

"What are you planning now?"

Sherlock jumped to his feet. "Come on, we haven't got much-

-BAM-

Sherlock was interrupted by a sudden blast that not only cut off his speech but sent him tumbling backwards until he landed safely on his bum. Albeit quite sore, he was unharmed. John appeared to be in the same, disoriented situation, but that was quickly changed when a patriotic disk was sent flying towards his head.

"JOHN, DUCK!" Sherlock roared from ten meters away.

John quickly dived to the ground, dodging the unidentified flying object coming straight for his head. John, who had spent several moments in Afghanistan in the same exact position, whipped out Sherlock's handgun, and aimed then fired four times at where the shield had come soaring from.

A red and gold blur rushed past John as he heard four pings of metal against metal. John rightly assumed that the man of iron had come to save his damsel in patriotic drapery, deflecting the fired bullets with his new and ever-improving armor.

"Okay redcoats, revolution over. You're surrounded and we're going to have to take you to see Mother Fury." The robotic voicings of Tony Stark boomed out through the audio transmitter of his suit. Sherlock quickly grappled his way towards John, checking to make sure his best man and former flat-mate wasn't bleeding profusely like he so often did.

"Hey you, tiny one, put the gun down," the archer shouted, his bow tightly drawn with an arrow notched and at the ready.

"Don't let go of it." Sherlock ordered John, quietly into his ear. "Run on my count, 1-"

"Dude, put the firearm down," Hawkeye commanded.

"2-"

"Do you want to get pierced in the head?"

"3-"

"Alright, you asked for it-

"NOW!" Sherlock and John sprung up and began a sprinting in two different directions. Hawkeye quickly retracted his bow and arrow and leaped after the smaller of the two.

"I've got the midget, you take the emo," Clint spoke into his earpiece as he rapidly followed the trespasser, "I've got this," he muttered to himself.

Hawkeye spotted a dying branch several meters above him and the fugitive. With a great surge, he grabbed onto the course bark of the branch, swung, and sent himself hurtling right towards at John Watson. A crash landing followed. But when Hawkeye opened his eyes and saw a face full of cardigan, he knew he had hit his target. With a great heave, Clint sat up and pinned the suspect to the ground

"Stark, one down, one more to go-"Hawkeye was suddenly cut off when a flying fist smashed against his ribcage.

John Watson was a bloody war veteran and he'd be damned if he didn't go down without a fight.


	3. Fort Ticonderoga: The Sequel

"Capsicle, cut him off to his right, I'll try to get a blast on him." Tony Stark scowled, his repulsors actively shooting at the boulders where the intruder was currently dodging their shots.

"Copy that," Rogers stated, before sprinting directly towards the British man's hiding spot.

* * *

Sherlock could feel both of his pursuers closing in.

Thing was, he wasn't surprised that reinforcements had come after him and John. But The Avengers? Well, _that_ was a bit unexpected. But unlike Mycroft, Sherlock was much more open to having a bit of fun. With a flick of his wrist, Sherlock tossed a modular smoke bomb in front of him, and as he heard the pop and hiss of the smoke rising, he scurried away under the guise of the growing plume of grey.

"Stark *cough* where did all the dust come from?" Steve shouted, waving his shield to fan away the rising smoke.

"That's not dust old timey, the guy's got an arsenal apparently."

"So what do we do now?"

"Well Capsicle, let me introduce you to this up and coming gadget, the _Heat-Seeker 4.5_. Newest tech there is. This infrared seeking radar can utilize the degree Centigrade-

"Stark, enough. I've used one before."

"Hmph, yet you still haven't watched 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding."

"I've got better things to do with my time-

"Speaking of time, the subject is giving off signals at 2 o'clock, he's heading towards the forest to your right." Tony analyzed, "Just follow the flying metal sheen and you'll get there."

"What? Oh-"Steve muttered as Tony suddenly jetted off. "Wait for the senior citizen my ass." Steve grumbled before taking off after the shining glint that was now Iron Man.

* * *

"JOHN!" Sherlock shouted into the dense forestation. His breath heaving, he waited for an answer. Several moments of silence passed before Sherlock concluded that John had either succumbed to the highly trained assassin, or bumbled along as he usually did and gotten away with only the blood of one dead American.

Enough about John though, Sherlock knew he had little time. The famous billionaire that was dead on his tail was bound to have some type of detector, or possibly placed a tracker on him.

This was a moment when being the baby brother to the British government had its perks.

From his jacket, Sherlock produced a modular device about the size of a mouse trap, where there was a lone metal switch. An **EMP** generator. With a flick of the switch the device could send out a single electric magnetic pulse, blowing out all electronic connections within a 10 meter radius. As he spotted a shimmer of red and gold from the skyline, Sherlock mentally smirked as he hovered his finger over the initiator dial. The Man of Iron suddenly emerged from a nearby cloud, his scarlet and gold suit zooming closer and closer, a bit closer…

"Okay crank-ster," Iron Man shouted through his suit, "fun and games are over, you're coming with-"

*Click*

 _ZAAAAAAAAAP_

As Sherlock flipped the 'on' switch, Iron Man's suit froze up and fell to the dirt-beaten ground as if it were a third grader's science fair project.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, what the hell- diagnostics!" Tony grimaced.

"Sir, it appears that the fugitive has an **EMP** and has blown your main circuit. Backup generators will be up and running in two minutes and 47 seconds," the female robotic voice calmly recited.

"The hell is with this guy?" Iron Man muttered as he stood to full height, clanking loudly in his currently dysfunctional suit. "I knew I should have worn Mark 43."

"Mister, you are now responsible for several accounts of assault and battery, I highly suggest you come quietly before you pull any more charges onto your head," Captain America called at the trespasser, slightly winded after his impromptu sprint across the woods.

He had witnessed Tony's suit malfunctioning under the fugitive's control, but Captain America wasn't _scared_ , so to speak. He tried diplomacy once more, "Sir, come quietly and we won't-

"I _am_ terribly sorry, _sir_ , but I really do have to get going!" Sherlock shouted with as much irony as a man who claimed to be emotionless could, and darted under the cover of the trees and began sprinting yet again-

 _SCHHHHK_

An arrow came flying past.

 _THUNK_

The target fell to the ground.

Out from the shrubs popped the head of a heavily bruised archer, with a tiny British man slung around his shoulder.

"Honestly, I don't understand why I never got a _TIME_ magazine spread, considering that I do all the work around here." Hawkeye said, before emerging from the bush and walking towards the downed man.

"CLINT!" Steve shouted heatedly, "Why did you shoot him? You should have kept them alive! We have no idea of their motive, who they're working for, how they got access, you've created a huge liability for SHIELD, and the world-

"Steve, dude, chill out man, it's just a sedative," Clint smirked before pulling the tip of the arrow out of the man's curly head of hair, revealing a blueish substance seeping out of it.

"He should be knocked up for several hours, his friend, too." Clint said, pointing at the little man's still breathing but unconscious body laid out in the grass.

A moment of silence passed before Tony decided to leave

"Alright F.R.I.D.A.Y, are we alright to go now?"

"Yes sir, thrusters are functioning at 50%."

"Cap, you can take the smaller one, I've got the psycho, get back to the Quinjet." Tony said, scooping up the lanky man into his arms. "Oh, and Legolas, try to only be fifteen minutes behind us." He quipped as he took off into the darkening sky and quickly becoming a light beam as he headed towards their ride home.

"Come along Clint, you've got a long run ahead of you," reminded Steve before grabbing the unconscious, straw haired man and sprinting in the opposite direction.

"I swear, you'll be seeing my resignation form when we get back!" Clint yelled at the receding back of Captain America.

"You wouldn't survive a week!" Steve's voice replied, becoming fainter as he ran farther away.

Clint strung up an arrow and aimed at the speck of red white and blue. "No one would even know," he called, and with that he put down his bow and returned the arrow to his quiver, beginning the trek back towards the Quinjet, and back towards his fellow Avengers.

* * *

E/N: Icebreaker Fact- Fort Ticonderoga was the first American victory during it's Revolutionary war. Big spat in the face to the Brits that was.


	4. Meeting the Parents

"Sherlock,"

"Mmph, leave me alone,"

"Sherlock,"

"…No,"

"Sherlock, wake up,"

"No…"

"Come on, you've got to get up,"

"…I don't want to,"

"Sherlock-

"FOR GOD'S SAKE GO AWAY AND LET ME BE!" Sherlock roared at his disturber, who retracted a few centimeters in response.

"Sherlock, what in the world is wrong with you?" John berated.

"I was _mind-palacing_ ," Sherlock complained before curling back up into a ball and wrapping his coat tighter.

Except, he didn't have his coat. Sherlock raptly looked up at John and noticed that John's cardigan had been replaced with a blank white t-shirt with, and, as he looked down, so had his.

Sherlock shook himself out of his state of shock and quickly leaped up, forgetting about his previous intentions of lethargic mind-palacing.

All around them was glass, he needn't be told that it was unbreakable, cages for outlaws tended to be that way. He was also fast to realize that all items that they had carried with them had been taken. He checked his mouth, _damnit they were invasive_ , they even found the lock pic that he occasionally kept under his tongue.

"Sherlock, where are we?" John asked, sitting on the chilling metal bench on the opposite end of their containment.

Sherlock slumped onto the floor with his back to the wall, and he frustratingly picked at the peeling paint on the floor. "The Avenger's base is located in New York City," he started, "but we can't be there, I haven't been knocked out nearly long enough for us to make the flight from Sokovia to the United States," he reasoned, "We haven't even been captive for more than four hours, look John, my veins aren't swollen." Sherlock sprang up and started pacing again.

"The air is incredibly thin so very high altitude, another skyscraper? No, because they have an air pressure regulator over there with a dial on the _outside_." Sherlock squinted his eyes and pressed his face against the glass of the cell,

"See, if this were just a normal industrial building there would be no way to access each individual regulator like a thermostat," Sherlock put his fingers to his temple and pressed hard, "So that means they planned on this place to frequently move between varying extremes of altitudes. Therefore, we are either on a rather large elevator or-

"Sherlock, do you remember the enormous aircrafts SHIELD used to save the civilians during the battle against Ultron?" John intermitted in the middle of Sherlock's rant.

"I was thinking that but they wouldn't be able to casually fly one of those at all times without being shot out of the air." Sherlock snapped.

"They could have some sort of, um, cloaking, device?" John suggested.

"Not one that would completely hide a towering 10,000 ton hull," Sherlock scoffed, "if there were such things Mycroft would be covered in them." Sherlock began pacing again.

John slumped back onto the metal bench, twiddling his thumbs in a mindless attempt to entertain himself.

Suddenly, a slow hiss of air signified the opening of a metal door that led into the cell. As the smoke dissipated, a tall, dark man came limping down the cat walk until he stood directly in front of the glass wall separating the cage from the rest of the chamber. With his single eye, he stared at the pacing man until he was bored by the sociopath's antics.

"Sherlock Holmes," Nick Fury announced, "World's only consulting detective, co-resident of 221 B Baker Street, and Britain's viral sensation." Fury turned his eye to face the other occupant of the cell, "John Watson, ex-medical corp of the 5th Northumberland, honorably discharged after a bullet to the leg, psychosomatic disorder, married, and Holmes' private biographer."

Fury allowed for a moment of silence to permeate the cell before continuing on. "I'd like to formally introduce you to SHEILD. The Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division."

John's eyebrows furrowed with the awkward pneumonic.

"We have the unfortunate business of dealing with some, domestic messes, that spill out into other countries. However, we don't appreciate it when amateurs try to touch our stuff." Fury glared through the glass, locking his eye onto Sherlock.

"So, Mr. Holmes, I'd love to talk over a cup of tea, but unfortunately, we're under a tight schedule. So how about you just tell me exactly what were you doing _14,411 feet_ above the place where the world almost ended?" He demanded, maintaining the stone-cold gaze that even Hawkeye envied.

Sherlock remained silent, peering back at Nick Fury with an inquisitive air, before stating "Sorry, I didn't understand what you were saying."

"I-what?" Fury uncharacteristically hesitated.

"What was that you said, 14,411 **_feet_** , no I don't quite know what that means-

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me-

"Perhaps I was 4,326 **_meters_** above the site of world's destruction, but I wouldn't know that-

" _Mr. Holmes_ , Stark informed me of some of the things you said back at the Sokovian site, do you hold some sort of malignancy against America?"

"Why yes, the last American I came across tied up and bludgeoned the landlady."

Yet again, silence filled the space between Sherlock, the cell wall and Fury.

"Duly noted Mr. Holmes. Anything else you wish for us to know?"

"Not necessarily, just make sure I don't get noticeably injured, because without universal healthcare I'd have to pay out of pocket." Sherlock shrugged aimlessly, before resuming his nonchalant pacing across the cell floor.

Fury observed him for only a second longer before calling out "Watch your mouth, there is an official interrogation meeting in five, and I don't want no braggadocio what-not from you."

With that, Fury left in a sweep of billowing black cloak, letting the door screech and slam shut behind him.

The billowing silence that followed notified John that he could now remove his face from his hands, no longer having to hide his aghast expression, and no longer having to hide his frustration with this narcissistic, fully-grown toddler-

"You're mad, John."

"Oh wow, you're deduction skills haven't aged a day, much like you-

"'Calm down, John-

"Calm down?! You just pissed on the head of one of the most powerful agencies in America, and now we're probably going to end up mysteriously buried in some hole in, I don't know, _Florida_." John threw out.

Several minutes pass as Sherlock continued pacing, ignoring all signs of distress emanating from the opposite side of the cell. "Maybe if we can just convince them that we were there under the guise of restoring the place-

"You won't be needing any of that Mr. Holmes," a low droll of female voice interrupted the detective, "We know enough of the truth to make an outline of what happened."

A bob of scarlet hair effortlessly emerged to reveal the owner of the threat.

"And we just need you two to color it in."

A whir of machinery signified the disengagement of the cell's lock. Brown eyes stared down blue.

"Follow me."


End file.
